Claire, Bordeaux, Rio, Ian and I traveled into what passed for civilization these days to trade some tech for information. Walking up the 45 through Jansenville and Chalmers, we passed ruin after ruin. When we came across a building that was still standing, we decided it might be a good idea to scavenge. You never know what you’ll find. People hide things in odd places, including old mail boxes.
“Guys. Hold up.” Ian held up a hand and cocked his head.
“What is it, man?”
“Dunno, Rio. Footsteps,” he pointed toward the building. “In there.”
“Hey!” Claire hissed. “A kid just rant into the brownstone.”
Bordeaux, a budding sociopath, muttered something about ridding the world of children. I decided right then that it would be a good idea to keep an eye on her. The world may be crap, but that doesn’t mean we’re savages. That doesn’t mean we kill children. I thought back on a large, frightening man standing over me in the ruins of the settlement that his men had just destroyed, ready to cut me down with his scythe. I shook the thought away, just like always.
Despite Bordeaux’s protests, the rest of us decided to check the building out. It wasn’t uninhabitable, just very run down. It wasn’t the only one in the area either. That meant either good pickings for us, or trouble.
“Hey, more running. This way,” Rio waved us over.
“We should be careful. This place doesn’t feel safe.” Ian was eyeing the way we came. “Maybe those Raiders are still following?”
“We lost them miles go. Besides, we need information and not everything is a trap,” I shook my head. “We check it out, but we’ll be smart about it. Let’s take the side entrance.” I pointed, but Bordeaux shoved past me with a sniff.
“Please. You’re all talk. I’m obviously the bravest one here. I’ll go first.” There must have been a mess of rubble inside, because her shove only opened it part way. She looked on the verge of a panic attack when her coat caught on something while squeezing through the tight space. A few frantic tugs freed it.
Sure. Brave.
The hallway beyond held an old staircase. “Looks rickety,” Rio tested the lowest stair. It made a lot of noise.
I raised an eyebrow and turned to Bordeaux. “Well, since you’re obviously the bravest of us,” I paused and gave a mocking bow, “Ladies first.” Her look was venomous, but she went.
With only minor problems we made it upstairs, where we saw the first signs of recent human habitation. The door nearest the stairs had been resettled into the frame and ten feet away, a hole in the floor led below to the rubble-filled room we passed on the way in.
“Stop.” I pointed inside the door and used old military hand signals, passed down long after there ceased to be a coherent military, to indicate I heard five voices, small or feminine. Rio shrugged and went right in. I ground my teeth and followed him. As we filed in, a woman stood farther in the room. She looked scared, but determined, brandishing a knife.
“What’re you doing in my house?” Her accent said she was from far to the south, near the Southern Gulf.
Rio held his hands up, “Easy. We aren’t here to hurt you. We’re just here on a mission.”
Her eyes darted around the room, “Okay, then. What do you want?” She licked her lips, a jerky motion.
“Have you seen any hostile groups?”
She laughed, “That depends on who you stand with.” She looked pointedly at the rest of us.
Rio turned up the charm a bit, “We aren’t with anyone. Honest.”
She looked skeptical. “Mainly it’s the Bandits of the Hood around here. I work with them to feed my family.” A small child came out and hugged her leg. Her eyes darted towards the corner. I followed her gaze. She noticed, and looked scared.
Rio made a decision, something I saw in his eyes. He pulled an old mug from his pack. “Look, do you have anything to trade?” He held out the mug. The child’s eyes widened and ran forward before the woman could stop him. The child grabbed the mug and retreated behind the woman, holding the mug tightly.
The woman looked at Rio and her shoulders lowered slightly, and she gave a weary smile but she never lowered the knife. “Okay. I think I can find something worthwhile to trade.” She walked over the the corner and opened a scuffed and dented crate in a corner. It was next to a dusty, tightly closed one. Behind both crates was a refuse pile. It didn’t stink, so the woman knew something about keeping her house. She rummaged through the crate and brought out a bottle of clean water. That made the whole trip worth it. Now we didn’t have to scavenge for water, or try our luck with the stagnant lagoons between here and the river.
Rio took them and thanked her, then looked back at us and nodded. We wished her well and turned to leave.
“Wait.” She hesitated for a moment. “Look, the Bandits have a headquarters about two blocks to the west. It’s in an old office building. If you’re looking for something, the Bandits might know about it.”
Rio nodded. “Thank you. We’re looking into New Bottsford.”
She paled and moved closer, her voice low. “I don’t know about that. The bandits might.” She looked back at the child, who was now with three others, all young, playing with the colorful mug. “A couple of those kids were near the blast when it went off, lost their parents. If you can find out who and why, give them hell, would you?”
Rio nodded. “Of course. Good luck to you.” She nodded and we left.
I saw Bordeaux shudder again as we left, wondering what her deal was. I couldn’t think about it much further though, as there was a commotion outside. We hurried back down the stairs and took in the chaos that erupted.
A black woman, dressed in mismatched and tattered clothing, her hair in puffy pigtails, was standing on a pile of rubble surrounded by Bandits. And she was holding something over her head and screaming at the top of her lungs. The Bandits were all armed and pointing their guns at her.
It is our job to find out who planned the New Bottsford suicide bombing and why. It would also be nice if we survived the experience.
Claire, Bordeaux, Rio, Ian and I traveled into what passed for civilization these days to trade some tech for information. Walking up the 45 through Jansenville and Chalmers, we passed ruin after ruin. When we came across a building that was still standing, we decided it might be a good idea to scavenge. You never know what you’ll find. People hide things in odd places, including old mail boxes.
“Guys. Hold up.” Ian held up a hand and cocked his head.
“What is it, man?”
“Dunno, Rio. Footsteps,” he pointed toward the building. “In there.”
“Hey!” Claire hissed. “A kid just rant into the brownstone.”
Bordeaux, a budding sociopath, muttered something about ridding the world of children. I decided right then that it would be a good idea to keep an eye on her. The world may be crap, but that doesn’t mean we’re savages. That doesn’t mean we kill children. I thought back on a large, frightening man standing over me in the ruins of the settlement that his men had just destroyed, ready to cut me down with his scythe. I shook the thought away, just like always.
Despite Bordeaux’s protests, the rest of us decided to check the building out. It wasn’t uninhabitable, just very run down. It wasn’t the only one in the area either. That meant either good pickings for us, or trouble.
“Hey, more running. This way,” Rio waved us over.
“We should be careful. This place doesn’t feel safe.” Ian was eyeing the way we came. “Maybe those Raiders are still following?”
“We lost them miles go. Besides, we need information and not everything is a trap,” I shook my head. “We check it out, but we’ll be smart about it. Let’s take the side entrance.” I pointed, but Bordeaux shoved past me with a sniff.
“Please. You’re all talk. I’m obviously the bravest one here. I’ll go first.” There must have been a mess of rubble inside, because her shove only opened it part way. She looked on the verge of a panic attack when her coat caught on something while squeezing through the tight space. A few frantic tugs freed it.
Sure. Brave.
The hallway beyond held an old staircase. “Looks rickety,” Rio tested the lowest stair. It made a lot of noise.
I raised an eyebrow and turned to Bordeaux. “Well, since you’re obviously the bravest of us,” I paused and gave a mocking bow, “Ladies first.” Her look was venomous, but she went.
With only minor problems we made it upstairs, where we saw the first signs of recent human habitation. The door nearest the stairs had been resettled into the frame and ten feet away, a hole in the floor led below to the rubble-filled room we passed on the way in.
“Stop.” I pointed inside the door and used old military hand signals, passed down long after there ceased to be a coherent military, to indicate I heard five voices, small or feminine. Rio shrugged and went right in. I ground my teeth and followed him. As we filed in, a woman stood farther in the room. She looked scared, but determined, brandishing a knife.
“What’re you doing in my house?” Her accent said she was from far to the south, near the Southern Gulf.
Rio held his hands up, “Easy. We aren’t here to hurt you. We’re just here on a mission.”
Her eyes darted around the room, “Okay, then. What do you want?” She licked her lips, a jerky motion.
“Have you seen any hostile groups?”
She laughed, “That depends on who you stand with.” She looked pointedly at the rest of us.
Rio turned up the charm a bit, “We aren’t with anyone. Honest.”
She looked skeptical. “Mainly it’s the Bandits of the Hood around here. I work with them to feed my family.” A small child came out and hugged her leg. Her eyes darted towards the corner. I followed her gaze. She noticed, and looked scared.
Rio made a decision, something I saw in his eyes. He pulled an old mug from his pack. “Look, do you have anything to trade?” He held out the mug. The child’s eyes widened and ran forward before the woman could stop him. The child grabbed the mug and retreated behind the woman, holding the mug tightly.
The woman looked at Rio and her shoulders lowered slightly, and she gave a weary smile but she never lowered the knife. “Okay. I think I can find something worthwhile to trade.” She walked over the the corner and opened a scuffed and dented crate in a corner. It was next to a dusty, tightly closed one. Behind both crates was a refuse pile. It didn’t stink, so the woman knew something about keeping her house. She rummaged through the crate and brought out a bottle of clean water. That made the whole trip worth it. Now we didn’t have to scavenge for water, or try our luck with the stagnant lagoons between here and the river.
Rio took them and thanked her, then looked back at us and nodded. We wished her well and turned to leave.
“Wait.” She hesitated for a moment. “Look, the Bandits have a headquarters about two blocks to the west. It’s in an old office building. If you’re looking for something, the Bandits might know about it.”
Rio nodded. “Thank you. We’re looking into New Bottsford.”
She paled and moved closer, her voice low. “I don’t know about that. The bandits might.” She looked back at the child, who was now with three others, all young, playing with the colorful mug. “A couple of those kids were near the blast when it went off, lost their parents. If you can find out who and why, give them hell, would you?”
Rio nodded. “Of course. Good luck to you.” She nodded and we left.
I saw Bordeaux shudder again as we left, wondering what her deal was. I couldn’t think about it much further though, as there was a commotion outside. We hurried back down the stairs and took in the chaos that erupted.
A black woman, dressed in mismatched and tattered clothing, her hair in puffy pigtails, was standing on a pile of rubble surrounded by Bandits. And she was holding something over her head and screaming at the top of her lungs. The Bandits were all armed and pointing their guns at her.
Crap.
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